


Reverberations

by Ashley_Patroclus



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Foot Fetish, Foot Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 23:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18353510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashley_Patroclus/pseuds/Ashley_Patroclus
Summary: In which Elio finally stops denying his pleasure.





	Reverberations

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this because it felt... uniquely them. I love these boys. I hope you enjoy; Forgive the strange prose, as I tried to blend Aciman's style with my own. I've also taken some liberties with both the book and the movie adaptation (I'm terrible at writing in the first person.)
> 
> Underage tag because Elio is canonically 17 and the age of consent is higher in some areas in the world.

The summer continued to crawl along and yet also at breakneck speed towards the end. When he would go away; when everything that built up this season would come to a close. Elio couldn’t stomach thinking about it. It took so much to get to where they were now.

Which was here, on Oliver’s bed. He was shirtless and annoyingly barefoot, reading a book with his legs crossed like he didn’t know what he was doing. But of course he did. Everything Oliver did was deliberate. Calculated. From the massage during volleyball to the foot massage after the nosebleed.

That may have been the tipping point for Elio. He remembered resenting the whole ordeal. Resented the control and patience Oliver had. The poise. Resented the growing arousal in his shorts. Resented that he looked like a child with a nosebleed. Resented that he looked weak in front of Oliver. And worst of all, resented that he wanted their roles to be reversed.

He could still remember clinging to Oliver. The green shirt light with the smell of the summer.

_“Can I kiss you?”_

_“Yes, please” he prayed._

He couldn’t bear to have Oliver leave his grasp for even a moment; clinging to his body. Then the door slammed.

Then Oliver shirked off his shoes, on the bed together. And maybe it was because they were already emboldened by the night. By the newness of the situation. By each other’s presence.

Elio remembered his heart thudding in his chest as he inched his own barefoot over to Oliver’s. Placing it gently on Oliver’s.

_“What are you doing?” Oliver asked with a smile. He already knew._

_“Nothing.” Elio said quietly, sounding like a child._

_Then Oliver moved to put his toes on top, gentle._

_“Does this make you happy?”_

_Elio could only nod. But in his mind, screamed to the heavens. Yes! Yes! I am so happy!_

_“You’re not going to get a nose bleed on me are you?”_

_And it was then that Elio pounced, feeling like a kid all over again. How does he do that? Make him feel so small. So significant and insignificant at the same time._

That whole night seems a blur now. So does the embarrassment of making love to a peach, while Oliver sat there looking like a Cheshire Cat; knowing and sly. Now, with days left and only them, Oliver is idling away their last few precious days reading. Pouring over books and dissertations instead of drowning in each other.

Though they had already made love twice today and it wasn’t even past noon, Elio could feel the desire creeping as he sat next to Oliver’s feet, at the bottom of the bed. Oliver was so big. Everything about him. His height. His manhood. And the bare feet next to him, idling as he read books and ignored Elio. Any maybe Elio felt bold. As bold as that first night together.

He reached out; grabbed Oliver’s foot - he touched gently along the sole causing Oliver to clench his toes in reflex.

“What are you doing?” Oliver asked, low and husky, looking over his book. Elio felt echoes of _that night_. The patronizing, knowing tone.

“Nothing” - More echoes. Elio wished the night could echo for the rest of his life.

Oliver smiled gently and leaned into Elio’s touch. Elio moved then to properly sit so that he was facing Oliver’s body.

“Must you always be…” Elio trailed off, yet he could not resist grasping Oliver’s foot with both hands, a firmer grip this time, touching up the delicately soft sole - it was a student’s foot, soft but masculine. Oliver moaned in response.

“You don’t seem to be as annoyed as you let on.”

Elio ignored him. Pouring his attention into Oliver’s beautiful sole, his toes, his arch. Oliver watched the young man as he labored over his foot, bringing him a pleasure he had not felt before. Elio had wanted this for so long. He wanted everything with Oliver for so long and they wasted so much time getting here.

And now he tentatively touched the body part he wanted to touch all summer. Cocks were nice. Chests were nice. But this was Oliver’s feet. This was something sacred; Like Mary upon Jesus anointing them and worshipping them.

Fuck. They were so soft. How? He walked barefoot all summer; shouldn't they be more callous than they are? They’re so soft…..

“What are you doing?” Oliver asked again.

After a moment, “You have nice…,” a pause, “...your feet are really… I like your feet.”

Oliver took the opportunity, raising an eyebrow “My feet?”

Like echos of the whole summer, Elio said, “You must think I’m depraved…” - A peach. Juices. Sperm. It all flashed in his mind…

Yet, Oliver only took the foot that was not being worked on and pushed it gently against Elio’s groin.

“Does this make you happy?” - More echoes. But yes. Elio was rigid in his shorts.

“Yes.” Echos. Echos echos echos. “This is…” he couldn’t find the words.

Oliver. Oliver always did this. He was always in control and now he was taking control again. Even as Elio tried to give a massage to this humongous piece before him, Oliver started moving his left foot gently against Elio’s groin.

And there it began to sit, the other huge sole against Elio’s cock - rigid and defying. Fuck.

“Stop,” Elio begged. Only to be met with more gentle pressure.

“Why would I stop? Seems like you want this…”

And Oliver began to rub his huge sole against Elio’s hardness.

“Stop” Elio begged once more, though his hands didn’t release from the foot he was holding. “No, this isn’t right…”

Echoes. Echoes echoes echoes.

“Elio,” Oliver said, low and husky; The tone was hypnotizing for the boy and it was all he could do to not ruck up against his foot. “I want you to experience any pleasure you desire.”

Elio looked down, one massive foot in his hand, another massive now parallel against his cock. It was unseemly, “I…”

But Oliver moved his foot then; Elio made a face of concern but didn’t dare move from this pleasure. Oliver brought his foot all the way up to Elio’s mouth. Elio didn’t move. Oliver raised an eyebrow. Elio didn’t move. “Kiss me Elio; The way that you kissed Marzia.” And Oliver finally moved to place his instep gently on Elio’s mouth. Elio didn’t move.

“Oliver,” Oliver said at last. Echoes. Echoes. Echoes. “Kiss me, Oliver.”

Elio swallowed and took a breath, And then he kissed Oliver’s sole. Then kissed it like he kissed Marzia, mouth agape, tongue exploring. Oliver tasted like heaven. Sweet. Yet a slight salt. No smell, save for Oliver’s smell. He wanted to drown in Oliver. To experience this moment and every moment in echoes for the rest of his life.

“Move Oliver,” Oliver said in a low voice, pushing his sole very gently against Elio’s shorts, against his length, “Move against me.”

Elio whimpered then. Lust overtaking his embarrassment. He gently and slowly rucked into Oliver’s other foot. Oliver gave resistance; The resistance gave friction. Elio’s head was swimming. His rhythm was slow. Deliberate.

Oliver watched him. This boy at his feet, making love to him. It was beautiful. Oliver wanted to give him every piece that Elio wanted. Watch him this content, desiring him like this. He was hard in his own shorts but he would not deal with that right now. This was one of Elio’s weakest spots, he would not exacerbate that by being selfish. He curled his toes around the silhouette of Elio’s length then.

And Elio shuddered. He felt warmth filling his shorts, huffing as he tried to kiss Oliver’s sole as the pleasure moved through his body. Oliver felt the warmth leak through the fabric and onto his foot. He didn’t know if he would ever wash that foot again. Elio kept rucking and huffing, swearing once under his breath as his pleasure released itself.

Now, like the past times this summer, reality set in and Elio felt like he could cry. He hated this. He loved this. He hated that he loved this. He could feel tears welling in his eyes.

“Hey,” Oliver said, adjusting himself so that he was more upright, his feet now only in front of Elio, “Come here,” he said gently, raising his arm.

Elio crawled up without question and tucked himself into the nook Oliver created for him.

“Your pleasure is beautiful Elio; Never deny yourself pleasure. And never deny yourself pleasure with me.” Oliver said gently.

The silence was deafening. A reminder of how quiet this room would be after Oliver left. It was unbearable.

“I love you.” Elio said at last, unbothered by the mess in his shorts or the heat of the summer, “I don’t want you to go.”

Oliver swallowed then, unsure of what to say, though he didn’t let on. He put his hand on Elio’s chest, “I’ll always be here. Even when I’m not.”

“Say it back. Please.”

Oliver paused for just a moment, so that Elio could hear the intention in his voice, “I love you, Elio.”

And he couldn’t help it. He cried. And was angry about it. He knew he should get up - Get cleaned. But he couldn’t move, “Can I lay here for just a moment longer?”

“For as long as you want, Oliver,” Oliver said.

Elio closed his eyes then and let the grief wash over him.


End file.
